Page 16 of Burn the Wild

I blow out a breath and search the road.

A black Mustang is coming toward me. Fast.

A tan arm hangs out the window.

I stick out my thumb, step into the road.

But the Mustang doesn’t slow down. It accelerates at an alarming rate, and blows right past, leaving me in a cloud of dust and exhaust.

“Slow down, asshole,” I mutter, catching a glimpse of the out-of-town license plate. Great. Just what the Resurrection locals need. Some dickhead out-of-towner plowing them down.

And then, the hand lifts and flips me off with expert precision.

An armful of gold bangles dangle from a slender wrist as the driver careens down the freeway like they’re an outlaw on the run for their life.

Whiskey. It’s the first thing on my mind and the last thing I need.

Grady’s Mustang rattles down every bump and divot in the winding drive. I gape as I pass under a massive iron sign that proclaims Runaway Ranch. Montana has stunned me. With its indigo skies and emerald forests, I envy every creature that gets to live out here. That gets to be free.

Sleeping at a gas station in Kansas City wasmyfirst act of freedom.

So far, so good. So long Gavin.

Yeah, right.

I’ve only been gone—missing, I suppose—for fifty-two hours and already Gavin has a story in theNashville Star.

Rehab for Country Singer Reese Austin. All Projects Suspended Indefinitely.

Rehab. Gavin’s deep dark secret. Our cover story. It always works. Because to the world, I’m just one more washed-up singer.

Not to mention, Gavin needs to cover his ass. Probably because I’m fully in breach of my contract. What’s in it—God knows. I’ve always signed whatever my manager set in front of me. He was constantly reminding me that I owed him. That I was his investment.

Well, no more. As soon as I’m settled, I plan to review my contract and figure out what the fuck I signed back when I was sixteen.

I hope it’s not too late.

I haven’t turned on my phone yet. I’m too afraid of Gavin’s wrath.When I think about what I’m skipping out on—the album I’m supposed to write, awards shows—the black tide of responsibility threatens to sweep me up. But I had to run. One more show, one more fake smile, and I’d lose it. Maybe I already have. I feel so detached from the world that created me.

A shiver snakes its way over my spine as I wonder if I’m doing the right thing. Despite how he’s treated me, Gavin’s the only family I have. He cares about me. He has to. Doesn’t that mean something?

Guiltily, I reach across the seat and stick my hand into a bag of red licorice. I enjoy every bite of the overly sweet sugar while I let a plan rise in my thoughts.

I need this. It’s safe here. As long as no one in my other life can find me.Lie low, Grady had said. And that’s what I plan to do. Rest my brain, review my contract, and figure out a way to make my life mine.

Heal.

If that black hole wants to follow me around this ranch. Let it.

The Mustang gurgles. I wince and pound the dash. It hasn’t let up with the noise since my last gas station stop. Hours of that sound has fried my nerves, but all I could do was drive on.

The road goes on for another quarter mile, passing a line of cabins, until I round the corner. And there, rising like the mountains surrounding it, is a stunning lodge.

Three stories tall, its showpiece is a massive front-facing vaulted window that overlooks the ranch. A large outdoor deck surrounds it. Guests file in and out of the massive double doors, cold beers in their hands.

I made it.

I did it.

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